Calling in Favours

[Oriena]

Ori never doubted the lure, but the devilry in her grin ignited at Claire's enthusiasm. The vice of Luka's misplaced familial obligations, stirred like cold ash when she finally sat by Sofiya's grave and was unrepentant, finally snapped loose. Her world had shifted, and she was no longer willing to sit in cracks and shadows, apologising for her very existence. When new flames stirred from the coldness, the mischief burned bright, and Oriena was always happiest with a conspirator. Claire's smirk, the sharpness that razored her words, was met with approval. For a fleeting moment she was touched by a sense of the overwhelming finality of change, but this time the odd sensation did not make her feel misplaced. It only deepened her grin.

She didn't put much stock in fate, but she welcomed the fickleness of fortune with a lover's embrace. Her interest in Claire did not flutter behind coyness, and she watched unabashed as the woman introduced herself to her two companions - though fuck if Ori could even remember their names herself. They were means to an end. Just as Claire was really, though her intentions there were less transient.

Viktor the taller, dark haired and eyed; careful in his movements, as though he expected the world might suddenly tilt on its axis around them. Ivan, lighter in colour but darker in temperament. He stared like he had forgotten he could be seen in turn, though the languorous dare in Ori's gaze had probably only encouraged the thoughts that skittered freely across his expression when he tilted his head back to swig from his bottle.

She deposited their fresh beers on the side of the table, and left them to fawn over Claire's cluelessness while she cleared the remnants of the last game, and set the table anew. "So what brings you to Moscow?"